


Noise.

by Mariah123



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariah123/pseuds/Mariah123
Summary: Mitch had always had a complicated relationship with food.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	Noise.

Mitch's life was full of noise. From the moment he was born, with a loud wail, till the moment he died with a loud wail. 

The noise of his father's sourly bitter voice telling him to be better. The sickeningly sweet voice of his mother smothering him with compliments. The warm voice of his brother teasing him and joking with him.

It was all Mitch was used to. 

Until the rich and creamy voice of Auston Matthew's became a refuge for his ears. The silky warmth of Patrick Marleau's voice became home. The soft buzzing of the team became all that mattered. And the homely roars of his fans became a reason to live. 

Mitch had always had a complicated relationship with food. 

Ever since he was fifteen, trying to escape the screams of his parents arguments that reverberated around the house. His hands would reach for the snacks in the kitchen like a lifeline, they would carry them into his room and place them on his desk. He would reach for a cookie, marvelling at the warmth of the gooey, crumbling mess that would find a way in his mouth, with one cookie came another, than another, than another until they all disappeared into the wormhole that was Mitch's mouth only to find a place in the black hole that was Mitch's stomach. Then he couldn't stop. Until a sob would force itself out of his mouth and tears gliding down his cheeks, before he'd find himself in front of his mirror, grimacing at his stomach. White frosting from the cake he had eaten would surround his mouth with the crumbles of chips he had shoved in his mouth and flakes of chocolate that he had bitten aggressively on, sullying his now red and damp face.

Rationally, Mitch knew he had nothing to worry about in regards to his weight. As a junior hockey player he did enough cardio and just running around to not gain a lot of weight. But that didn't stop him from pinching the invisible fat on his stomach. That didn't stop him from sitting near his toilet with two fingers in his throat, forcing food out of his mouth with a sob. 

And now as an adult, playing for the NHL he couldn't do that. His team appointed dietician pre selected his meals and he didn't need to throw them up, because they were just greens and grilled meats and it was better. But it wasn't. 

Because everytime he sat with his team at a restaurant. The noise would stop as his eyes caught the many foods being carried by waiters and waitresses alike in their arms. His mind would calculate the calories for every food, the chocolate lava cake slice, the the strawberry on top and the dripping chocolate ganache. The Vanilla cheesecake with its creamy filling and strawberry sauce running down its edges like a waterfall. Willing his mind to stop Mitch would turn to his salad, with its murky green lettuce, blood red tomatoes and an array of other vegetables. But he couldn't eat, his mind full of all the other treats he so desperately wanted to consume.

Mitch was better now, with his gaunt face, emaciated body and lifeless eyes. He didn't eat as much, he only drank some water and ate some salad these days, completely dismissing the healthy salmon or chicken or beef meals his dietician - Lauren was nice and she smiled like his mother - had recommended. Now when he sat with his teammates at restaurants he wasn't able to eat the salad though, his brain would constantly chime, everytime he would force his hand on the fork.

_What if you can't stop._

And Mitch remembers fifteen year old him shoving all kinds of greasy and sweet food down his mouth, pinching at invisible belly fat, and Mitch never wants to start again in fear of never being able to stop. 

So he doesn't eat. 

He's in the supermarket and he doesn't even know why but he buys the ingredients to Lauren's recipes, even though he won't use these ingredients, maybe he's attempting to assuage his guilt. He doesn't even know why he feels guilty, he's just helping himself, it's better this way. 

He can't eat. Mitch realises with a start as he sits on a chair in a restaurant surrounded by his teammates. He can't eat or he'll never be able to stop, and then he won't be able to play hockey with his fat body and then the roars of the fans won't help him live and he'll cease to exist. Mitch looks down at his plate of salad, his eyes follow the silver fork until they reach his hands. They're white because of the force he is using to hold the fork, but he doesn't need to hold the fork anymore because he can't eat anymore, so he let's go and allows the fork to fall into the white plate with a loud noise. He looks up and they don't hear anything. They're all laughing at a joke someone made and Auston's laughing so hard as he leans back into his chair and tears run down his face, and Patrick's looking at them with a soft grin as he shakes his head. Their tucking into their steaks and salmons and cheesecakes and Mitch wishes he could do that, just take a bite and then not take the next one.

Mitch sits on his kitchen floor and he's really hungry. He eyes the food that he bought for his teammates and his family who sometimes visit him. Auston came around a lot with his grin, bright eyes brimming with happiness and his concern for him. Mitch didn't even know why Auston would be worried about him but he didn't like seeing the American upset so he would smile a fake smile only to see the happiness in Auston eyes return. Patrick also came once in a while with his children. He offered them food so he could remove the poison from his house, and they'd run around his house with their laughs, smiles and innocent words suffocating him with kindness and brightness. Offering him a temporary reprieve from his dark thoughts, until the brightness would fade as they left him alone in his darkness.

The doritos that were reserved for Auston sat on his kitchen floor and Mitch was engaged in a staring contest with them. He couldn't eat them but he wanted to. And there was only one solution to this situation. To not live. 

Mitch walks his fatigued body into his bathroom and gazes at the mirror. His dark circles are more pronounced than ever, so are the lines of his neck and jaw as well as his arms. This is the only way, he decides as he opens a cabinet and takes out a bottle of pills. As he opens the child lock on the bottle he can almost pretend that they're tic tacs. He raises them to his mouth like he would when he was a child and let's them run down his mouth into his throat, unlike his childhood where he would let the tic tacs rest in his mouth and he enjoyed the flavour. 

He sits on the floor of the bathroom and let's the tiredness overtake him, his phone pings but he ignores it, and then it pings again so he weakly huffs and grabs his phone. 

_I'm coming over_

_F_ o _rtnite_

Auston. Mitch freezes, not Auston. Auston couldn't see him like this, dying and shirtless, sunken in cheeks and ribcages. He was too happy to see something so tragic. Too pure to see something so impure. Too clean to see something to messy. So Mitch weakly makes his way to the toilet and shoves his fingers down his throat in a bid to vomit out the pills. But he's too weak and his fingers don't work exactly as he'd like them too. So he wails for his mother as he feels darkness bleed into his vision.

Then he leaves the world how he entered the world with a wail.


End file.
